As I walked through the woods on the way to my house, I saw Jerry, a rich kid from the other side of the woods, pushing little Alexander. I asked, “What are you doing, Jerry?”
“Nothing,” Jerry replied, “Just this idiot won’t give me his GI Joe.” He swiped it away from the younger boy.
Alexander desperately tried to get it back, and Jerry swatted him away.
“Give it back,” I warned and walked up to Jerry.
He shoved me. I responded with a fist to his nose. Jerry dropped the action figure and checked his nose: a smear of blood on his hands. He ran down the path swearing he would tell his mom on me.
Alex picked up the Duke figure and thanked me.
“No problem,” I replied and walked home.
The above is missing something important: thoughts and feelings. Below, I read through my piece, adding asterisks (*) where my reader needs to know my thoughts and feelings...
As I walked through the woods on the way to my house, I saw Jerry, a rich kid from the other side of the woods, pushing little Alexander. * I asked, “What are you doing, Jerry?”
“Nothing,” Jerry replied, “Just this idiot won’t give me his GI Joe.” He swiped it away from the younger boy. *
Alexander desperately tried to get it back, and Jerry swatted him away. *
“Give it back,” I warned and walked up to Jerry. *
He shoved me. * I responded with a fist to his nose. * Jerry dropped the action figure and checked his nose: a smear of blood on his hands. Turning, he ran down the path swearing he would tell his mom on me. *
Alex picked up the Duke figure and thanked me.
“No problem,” I replied and walked home. *
Below, my second draft with thoughts and feelings...
As I walked through the woods on the way to my house, I saw Jerry, a rich kid with a shiny black bowl cut, pushing little Alexander. I always thought of Alexander as a bit of an annoyance. Recently, he would hang around me and my best friend, Matthew, trying to play war with us. We were nine-year-olds, after all, and he was seven-and-a-half, so there was no way we were going to let him hang around.
However, seeing Jerry, who lived in one of the McMansions on the other side of the woods, push Alexander around was really upsetting.
I asked, “What are you doing, Jerry?”
He looked surprised, thinking he would be free to bully a kid around in privacy.“Nothing,” Jerry replied, “Just this idiot won’t give me his GI Joe.” He swiped it away from the younger boy. Alexander desperately tried to get it back, and Jerry swatted him away. Rage swelled up in me—partially because it was obviously so unjust, and partially because Jerry was rich and I was poor. Knowing that this kid could probably get whatever he wanted by whining to his mom or dad, and seeing him take from a defenseless kid really got to me.
“Give it back,” I warned and walked up to Jerry.
What are you going to do? I asked myself. Hit him? You’ve never fought anyone in your life!
At the time, I wanted to be a boxer when I grew up. Maybe it's just the way that boys are: full of aggression and needing to exert it physically. However, I never imagined I would have to hit someone in my friendly neighborhood.
He shoved me. I couldn’t believe the audacity of the kid. Sure, he probably knew I was a nice kid, and wouldn’t do anything, but I was about an inch taller, and couldn’t he see that what he was doing was wrong?
I responded with a fist to his nose. We both stood there. Shocked, I think, that I could do something like this to him. Jerry dropped the action figure and checked his nose: a smear of blood on his hands. He ran down the path swearing he would tell his mom on me. A wave of fear washed over me and then receded.
He won’t tell his mom.
Alex picked up the Duke figure and thanked me. I looked at the admiration in his eyes, and now saw that I was a hero to him. I felt vaguely uncomfortable at this prospect.
Now he’s going to want to hang out with Matt and me all the time!
“Yeah, no problem, Alex,” I replied and walked home, deciding not to bask in my glory.That was the last punch I would ever throw.
“Nothing,” Jerry replied, “Just this idiot won’t give me his GI Joe.” He swiped it away from the younger boy.
Alexander desperately tried to get it back, and Jerry swatted him away.
“Give it back,” I warned and walked up to Jerry.
He shoved me. I responded with a fist to his nose. Jerry dropped the action figure and checked his nose: a smear of blood on his hands. He ran down the path swearing he would tell his mom on me.
Alex picked up the Duke figure and thanked me.
“No problem,” I replied and walked home.
The above is missing something important: thoughts and feelings. Below, I read through my piece, adding asterisks (*) where my reader needs to know my thoughts and feelings...
As I walked through the woods on the way to my house, I saw Jerry, a rich kid from the other side of the woods, pushing little Alexander. * I asked, “What are you doing, Jerry?”
“Nothing,” Jerry replied, “Just this idiot won’t give me his GI Joe.” He swiped it away from the younger boy. *
Alexander desperately tried to get it back, and Jerry swatted him away. *
“Give it back,” I warned and walked up to Jerry. *
He shoved me. * I responded with a fist to his nose. * Jerry dropped the action figure and checked his nose: a smear of blood on his hands. Turning, he ran down the path swearing he would tell his mom on me. *
Alex picked up the Duke figure and thanked me.
“No problem,” I replied and walked home.
*
Below, my second draft with thoughts and feelings...
As I walked through the woods on the way to my house, I saw Jerry, a rich kid with a shiny black bowl cut, pushing little Alexander. I always thought of Alexander as a bit of an annoyance. Recently, he would hang around me and my best friend, Matthew, trying to play war with us. We were nine-year-olds, after all, and he was seven-and-a-half, so there was no way we were going to let him hang around.
However, seeing Jerry, who lived in one of the McMansions on the other side of the woods, push Alexander around was really upsetting.
I asked, “What are you doing, Jerry?”
He looked surprised, thinking he would be free to bully a kid around in privacy.“Nothing,” Jerry replied, “Just this idiot won’t give me his GI Joe.” He swiped it away from the younger boy.
Alexander desperately tried to get it back, and Jerry swatted him away. Rage swelled up in me—partially because it was obviously so unjust, and partially because Jerry was rich and I was poor. Knowing that this kid could probably get whatever he wanted by whining to his mom or dad, and seeing him take from a defenseless kid really got to me.
“Give it back,” I warned and walked up to Jerry.
What are you going to do? I asked myself. Hit him? You’ve never fought anyone in your life!
At the time, I wanted to be a boxer when I grew up. Maybe it's just the way that boys are: full of aggression and needing to exert it physically. However, I never imagined I would have to hit someone in my friendly neighborhood.
He shoved me. I couldn’t believe the audacity of the kid. Sure, he probably knew I was a nice kid, and wouldn’t do anything, but I was about an inch taller, and couldn’t he see that what he was doing was wrong?
I responded with a fist to his nose. We both stood there. Shocked, I think, that I could do something like this to him. Jerry dropped the action figure and checked his nose: a smear of blood on his hands. He ran down the path swearing he would tell his mom on me. A wave of fear washed over me and then receded.
He won’t tell his mom.
Alex picked up the Duke figure and thanked me. I looked at the admiration in his eyes, and now saw that I was a hero to him. I felt vaguely uncomfortable at this prospect.
Now he’s going to want to hang out with Matt and me all the time!
“Yeah, no problem, Alex,” I replied and walked home, deciding not to bask in my glory.That was the last punch I would ever throw.